


Regrets

by IShouldBeWriting



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBeWriting/pseuds/IShouldBeWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of insight into Persephone's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

Everyone says that I should have regrets. Don’t get me wrong; I do. But they’re not the regrets people expect of me. No one knows what it’s like to be expected from birth to stand radiant under the heat of the summer sun when what you truly want is the soothing darkness of the deepest forest. I love my mother dearly, but I’ve never wanted to follow in her footsteps. I’m not Ishtar to play handmaiden and shadow to my lady’s glory. My longing is and always has been for things never expected of me. I adore the quiet murmur of the underworld’s shades. In my seasons there, they speak to me, spinning endless tails as intricate as any web Ariadne can weave.

But perhaps I’m wrong; perhaps those like Ariadne could understand me. How do you shrug off the expectations when you know in your soul that you are meant for one thing and one thing only? Ariadne knows, I expect. Perhaps her taunting of Arachne was intentional, the only means by which she could liberate herself of the burden of everyone else’s expectations. I don’t know, and at this point I doubt Ariadne has any desire to tell me. And if there’s one thing that living in the underworld has taught me, it’s that everyone should be respected for the secrets they choose to keep. Shades by the thousands pass across the River Styx each year and only Chiron knows what secrets they choose to take with them to their rest. So no, I will not ask Ariadne whether she feels the same. She’s as deserving of her silence as anyone else.

Yes, I have my regrets, but ultimately, this place is my home. Regardless of how long I remain here, my mother will never cease her weeping. I would ask the gods to grant me permission to live here year round if it weren’t for how badly that would break her. So what do I regret? I regret not being able to follow my own heart completely. I regret that my mother’s grief will always be a tether, dragging me into the sun for half of every year whether I wish it or not.

It’s not what you expected of me, is it? But then, no one ever asked Ariadne what she wanted, did they?


End file.
